<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>east by satellight</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792481">east</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/satellight/pseuds/satellight'>satellight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Daisuga Beach Cottagcore, Fluff, M/M, daisuga live in a cottage because they deserve it, this is teeth rotting babeyyy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:34:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/satellight/pseuds/satellight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Daichi and Suga have a routine.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Haikyuu Writer Jukebox Round One - Mitski</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>east</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Daichi wakes up first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Daichi always wakes up first. This is an unconscious ritual in their relationship; Daichi wakes before Suga, no matter where they are, or how much sleep either of them have gotten.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slides his feet onto the cold floor and, careful not to wake his partner, pads out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. First light broke only an hour or so ago. Habitually (robotically being too stiff a word), he starts his coffee. He lets it brew while he peruses the cabinet for a mug. There are only a few to be spoken of, but Suga is very specific about which ones he likes to use. Such as the lumpy blue speckled one— that is a Suga-only mug. Daichi is okay with this; the repetition helps him grow familiar with the curl of his lover’s hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally he decides on a non-offensive white mug. Before he pours himself a cup, he opens the window above the sink. The rough air that rushes in to greet him is refreshing. Daichi fixes his coffee, the slight wind skirting past his hair. Absentmindedly he runs his fingers through it; it’s not soft like Suga’s. It’s more rigid, solid, unmoving, whereas Suga’s moves at a single breeze. Maybe this is a metaphor for their relationship. Maybe Daichi is just tired.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaves the window open as he steps out onto the deck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The same scene unfolds before him the way it does every morning. The tide comes in and out, the birds fly in and out, Daichi breathes in and out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Routine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Halfway through his cup of coffee, Daichi feels the familiar enveloping of two slender arms around his waist. The weight of Suga’s head follows on his right shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi Koushi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“G’morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Daichi takes in a deep breath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Salty</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He didn’t know what he expected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful morning, hmm?” He supplies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I assume you haven’t had any coffee yet?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Later.” Suga murmurs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They remain like this for an unchecked period of time— Daichi slowly draining his mug, Suga wrapped loosely around him. It’s warm. It’s good. There’s a moment where time warps on the deck, where Daichi never runs out of coffee and Suga’s arms never grow tired, but in the end, time bounces back (will always bounce back).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Daichi finishes his coffee and sets the mug down on the railing. It sits precariously on the edge, but he isn’t worried. Suga releases his hold and stretches up towards the sun, the soft sound of his joints moving piercing the ambience of the tide coming in. He leans forward onto the railing and looks out across the water. Daichi takes a moment to just… stare. Just to look. Suga isn’t watching him, but he’s watching Suga. He’s always watching Suga. Always has been. There’s something so mesmerizing about him— the way he tosses around his words like they’re candy, how he so easily reassures Daichi with one smile, his hands unconsciously finding themselves intertwined with Daichi’s. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If I were a man in a barren desert</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Daichi thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suga would be my mirage</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He wants to tell him this. He reminds himself that Suga probably already knows, that Suga has always known this, but it still lingers in the back of his throat, waiting to be pushed out into the open air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In his head, he goes with this instead: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you sleep okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As well as I could when </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> left the window open all night.” It would be lighthearted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hush. It wasn’t that cold.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Says the man who hogs the blankets,” In his head, Suga laughs. “And then sleeps like a rock under them!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Daichi would wrap his arms around Suga and pull him away from the railing. “Are you warm enough now?” He teases.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Suga would laugh again. “Yes, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span>Instead, he just watches. He watches, because Suga exists to straddle the line of elegance and simplicity. The waves ebb and flow, the birds cross the beach— all constants. Daichi watches. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One day, too, this will be a constant</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One day</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>